


sever

by ProtoDan



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Amputation, Backstory, Don't try this at home kids, Gen, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, by hacking off a limb or two, like seriously, the dude responds to a major depressive episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoDan/pseuds/ProtoDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mind, his body, they have betrayed him. His emotions have ruined him, left him bleeding and begging for oblivion to gods who turned their backs on him long ago. Only raw logic has remained, and the only pure logic that exists is that of a perfect machine.<br/>His flesh has forsaken him. Viktor will forsake it in kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sever

 

 

Viktor stares at the tourniquet wrapped around his knee, his chest cold and tight. There are countless ways this could go wrong; he's calculated out every single one, written it all down and tacked it to the wall along with whatever solutions might save him should he fail. If it all goes to hell, only Viktor can save himself. He is alone here. Neither men nor gods stand watch in this room tonight, only Viktor and his thoughts.

And his thoughts urge him onwards. Onwards, to discovery. Onwards, to progress. Onwards, to the ultimate destruction of everything that has destroyed him. His mind, his body, they have betrayed him. His emotions have ruined him, left him bleeding and begging for oblivion to gods who turned their backs on him long ago. Only raw logic has remained, and the only pure logic that exists is that of a perfect machine.

His flesh has forsaken him. Viktor will forsake it in kind.

Start slow, he reminds himself. Start slow, build gradually into titanium perfection. He must not replace his entire body in one procedure, as much as he wishes he could. An extremity, a nonessential part--easily replaced, and easily replicated and improved if it goes well. He will work up from there.

The tourniquet will staunch the worst of his bleeding, the bone-saw will make quick work of his broken flesh, and the torch at his side will cauterize if need be. (Fire, he thinks, to purify his imperfections. One cannot produce good gold without first putting it through the flames, after all.) He has already made the new leg, the bright steel of its surface shining beside him. This is the beginning. Somewhere in the bleak haze of his burning mind, Viktor is something akin to thrilled. Everything, everything changes tonight.

There is a syringe of local anesthetic on the table. Viktor has carefully, carefully calculated how much he will need, how much will cause him irrevocable damage, how much will leave him in screaming agony.

Viktor takes in a long breath, willing his rebellious human heart to calm. He tightens the tourniquet and, swallowing his fear, takes the syringe in his hand. Once he begins, he cannot go back. Once he begins, he cannot go back. Once he begins...

The needle presses into him, the sharp sting snapping his mind into focus. His thumb pushes down the plunger. Deep, slow breaths. It will take a moment for the anesthetic to take effect. When it does, he will have enough time to remove the limb and replace it. So his research has indicated, anyway.

He stares up at his notes while he waits, re-memorizing the theories and conclusions he's scribbled out on the wall. The anxiety in his chest ebbs slightly, and he lets out a quiet sigh. Soon, he thinks, all will be well. Once he cuts out the human parts of himself and throws them in the garbage where they belong, all will be well.

Some time later, he feels his leg fade into nothingness. Slowly, he breathes. Time for the next step. Viktor takes the bone-saw in his right hand and presses the blade against  his skin.

Just below the knee, Viktor thinks. It will be helpful to keep the joint, as it works well enough to suit him for now. He can figure out how best to construct a mechanical replacement after this first experiment is complete. The saw shifts into his bared skin, digging through the epidermis, the dermis, and into the muscle. Blood pools in the new wound, glistening faintly along the ridged lines of his tool.

It's fascinating, really. He doesn't feel a thing. A testament to how effective the anesthetic is.

Viktor shifts, moving the saw back and forth, back and forth. The blood trickles down his leg, drops falling from the blade to the floor with a dull sort of _plop._  He'll have to clean it up later. He grimaces--not at the gore, at the raw muscle he glimpses between saw-strokes, but at the effort it takes to hack through it all. This would be much easier, he thinks, if he had some sort of laser.

Next time, he supposes. This is simply a learning experience.

The bone is trickier, of course--human bones are sturdy, and not so easily sliced through as the soft tissues. Slow breaths, he reminds himself. Slow breaths, and slow strokes. It wouldn't do to hack away at the bone and then shred through the muscle on the other side. This will take both time and patience.

Halfway there. Still no sensation. The saw jerks slightly as it reaches the other side of the fibula, and Viktor can't quite help but peer at the exposed marrow when it presents itself.

Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

The tibia is next. Slow strokes, he tells himself; don't use too much pressure. He loses track of time in the steady beat--back, forth, scrape, scrape, back, forth. The saw doesn't seem to dull as he works, which is something of a relief. He can't imagine that cutting into human bone with a dull tool would be particularly pleasant. Regardless, he makes a note to sharpen it when he's done, in preparation for whatever he deigns to remove next.

_Shhhhhhlck._ The saw jerks from his flesh, and the now dead limb falls to one side with a wet thud. Quickly, Viktor moves to cauterize the wound, waiting until the blood stops seeping from the stump before he reaches for the new leg. It's crude, by his estimation, but he knows that he can upgrade when he's done. 

He slots the stump into the cap and tightens the cuff around his upper calf. Once the anesthetic wears off, he has a backup supply of painkillers to take away the lingering pain. For now... for now, he will breathe, breathe and think on how to do better. As it would likely be a mistake to try to walk while much of his leg is still numbed, Viktor hefts the dismembered half onto his lap and peers at it, turning it over several times for a better look.

The skin is already going deathly pale as the blood drains out, and a thin trickle spills across his remaining flesh leg, seeping into his clothes. That's somewhat problematic.

Ah well. He can clean up once he knows he can walk. With a quiet sigh, Viktor lifts the leg up and drops it into a nearby garbage bin--this, too, he will deal with later, before it makes the whole house start to smell. Closing the lid, he turns towards his table, frowning at the newly added weight of his improved leg. That will take some adjustment. Perhaps when he upgrades he can find lighter materials.

Singing softly to himself, Viktor pulls out a blank blueprint and starts to sketch out his next step.


End file.
